214 Palmer Street(28)

“I’m not sure what you mean. I was only offering to help revamp the website. I have the skills and the time. I wanted to help.” After what seemed like a long silence, she said, “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here. Look, I’m sorry if I came off as nasty. You sound like a decent human being, but like I told Kirk at my dad’s funeral, we don’t need any more help from the Adens, monetary or otherwise. If he doesn’t want to tell us what happened to my brother, I have no use for him.”

“Wait, wait, wait! I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only know that your brother went missing.”

“Your husband is the one you should be asking about this.”

“I will, but could you explain your side of things for me?” Sarah leaned her elbows onto the counter, her heart pounding. “Please?”

“Look. All I know is that when my brother left the house that night he wasn’t talking about running away. He was going to go to Kirk’s house to hang out in the bomb shelter until my dad sobered up. Next thing I know there’s a note in our mailbox and he’s gone.” She gave a heavy sigh. “No way would my brother leave like that, knowing how my dad was. He never would have left me behind. Kirk saying he didn’t see or talk to Jeremy that night is total bull. He can cry in public and pretend to be devastated all he wants, but he knows what happened and I know he knows. So I’m sorry if you and I aren’t going to be friends, but frankly your husband is a piece of human garbage. So good luck with that.”

“Was the note in the mailbox written by your brother?” Sarah didn’t know how she managed to keep her voice steady.

“I’m done talking to you.”

The phone went dead, leaving Sarah with a sick feeling knotting in her gut. Stephanie’s anger, her revelations, were like a smack to the face. All these years later and she was still convinced that Kirk was involved? And why wouldn’t she answer the question? According to everything Sarah had heard, the family had accepted the note as having been written by Jeremy. Wasn’t that proof that he’d left of his own accord?





SEVENTEEN





HER





For a few weeks after she left the hospital, I only spotted Sarah Aden when she was going for walks in the neighborhood or riding in the car with Kirk at the wheel. Her forays into the world were so mundane that I nearly lost interest in her life. Maybe my mother was right and it was time to let go. I’d read about these two people, unleashed my anger in writing, and followed them. I’d had these bottled-up feelings for so long now and accomplished nothing except for creating even more misery. It was a miracle that I hadn’t been spotted so far. Why push my luck?

I was on what I was thinking of as my last Sarah Aden spy mission, when I spotted Phil’s green Ford parked around the corner of her home, engine idling. Luckily for me, Phil was looking at his phone so I was able to pass him and park further ahead. In my rear-view mirror, I watched as Sarah came out of the neighbor’s yard and climbed into his car. I ducked down as they came by, then waited until they were a safe distance and followed them.

They headed down a busy road in the direction of my old neighborhood and I kept two cars behind them, annoyed when a pickup truck cut in between us. They turned off and I didn’t notice in time. I wound up going another half mile before I could turn back. It was possible I’d lost them completely. I had a feeling, though, that I knew where they were going. Traffic thinned once I turned off the main road into the subdivision. I went past my old house, which looked curiously bare now that our large, leafy oak tree had been reduced to a stump in the middle of the front yard.

More than a block away, I saw Sarah Aden on foot, heading up the driveway of the Adens’ former residence. Phil’s car was nowhere in sight. I pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine, then feigned looking at my phone, while keeping my eyes ahead. She knocked on the door and peered through the side light window. While waiting she nervously shifted from foot to foot. Finally, she turned and stepped off the porch. Just when I thought she might give up and leave, she picked up a garden gnome from the landscaped bed close by and turned it upside down. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but after she’d returned the gnome to his spot she went back to the entrance, unlocked the door and disappeared inside, and it all became clear. She knew where the new occupants of the house kept their hidden key.

They must be close friends if they trusted her that way.

Still, that didn’t explain all the sneaking around. Such peculiar behavior. I couldn’t understand it and I couldn’t let it go.

I got out of the car and started walking in that direction, stopping just short of the driveway. Looking around everything was familiar, but different since I’d lived here. Houses were different colors. Saplings had grown and now towered overhead. At one point this subdivision had been my world. Now it was part of a painful past. I couldn’t see Sarah inside the house. The blinds were down. From all outside appearances, no one was home.

I went to the neighbor’s house and knocked on the door. When it opened, I peered into a familiar face. “Mrs. Scott?” I said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to live down the block—”

Her face lit up. “I know exactly who you are! How nice of you to stop by. How is your mother?”